Judge — November 19, 1881 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE JUDGE. A TOOTHSOME ‘TALE IN SIX CHAPTERS. 3. The result is not very flattering (0 his personal canity, oks the Moutist sencts nim his neve t ke happen to be the ones made Bunnells giant, and of course they do not fit. COLLAPSED. No friend, no fun; no life, n No git! to bug by eann No coin in parse; no hope in heart I know no month drear as November. Ab, m Ah, sneering sun, in dome Ab, think ye that I ken or heed The dubiousness of things terrestrial? moon and stolid stars; tial I've bad my fill from sorrow’s spoon; I've drained the cup, at cistern broken; I've trusted all ed for all And bankrupt am, by this same token. He Recherche Row. a jewelry store. Time: midnight. ness broken by a music-box striking up a lively air. A couple of bronze stataes de- scend from a shelf and commence to waltz along the counter. ‘Don’t tread corn!” cries a gilded image of C away her Horn of Plenty; prov from one of the dancers that they have had a plenty of that horn. ‘‘Can’t we ring in?” Astor House “to try them. Aropped them in my soup! 8. Haring shally got the right ones, he lunches at the Allen—and Dam-it! T shouts a box of finger ornaments in the show: | but they didn’t hav were locked in. A clock on a shelf holds its hands in front of its to hide its blushes, and cries, ‘ Wateh! watch!” A big gold says if it was fixed to strike as the clock is he would stop the racke Hush that noi nes from a delicate bit of jew elry in “it makes my ear-ring so.” “It’s candle-ns, so it is,” sobbed a golden candle. “and the proprietor ought to be informed of “Brooch the subject to him in the morning,” said a S. bosom-pin in the form of a horseshoe. “Won't somebody take that music-box and loc! cried a watel “Wish a bur-| glar would come in and goblet,” snapped a bright-eyed diamond that was playing a game of solitaire, addressing a neighboring card- “Or castor into the cellar,” put ina “Pitcher anywhere,” snapped a patent collar-button. Just before coming to the wind: up the musie-box ran down, the waltz came to ~ conclusion, and there is show-ease they nothing furt’ sto record by, ewers truly.— Cinch uti Saturday Night. ing the teeth out of his head, and a hungry dog, mis taking them for a bone, bones them. Let the unmarried young seapegraces of the country erect a monument to that monumental seraph of the Sierras, Joaquin Miller. He has written a song that must be the keyne of campaigns for all time. Itisentitled, ‘* My Darling, Have you Money?” and has been pub- lished by a firm whose reputation is world- wide, “Tow for me, as y do?” asked nesda, Sure, an’ I did, sor, an’ I got twinty me friends ter do the same thing, so I did.” “Well, both you and your friends must have got mixed somehow, for I received only one Yote after all my trouble and expense.” “Ah! sur, then me friends all wi on me it, Mik cei t you did not vote 3 I paid you to ated candidate last: Wed- t back and that wan vote was mine, so it “Oh, it was, eh? Well, then, the vote that Jcast wasn't counted, I guess,” replied